The Advance of Magic and Other Developments
by Laurus Nobilis
Summary: Young Albus Dumbledore is going to be a great wizard someday. Clow knows that he still has much to learn before that happens. Harry Potter and Card Captor Sakura crossover, vague spoilers for Deathly Hallows.


**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Card Captor Sakura belongs to CLAMP.

**Author's Notes:** There are vague spoilers for _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _in this fic. Also, many thanks to Etrangere for her help with the French. :)

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**The Advance of Magic and Other Developments**

When Clow first met young Albus Dumbledore, alchemy prodigy, thanks to the timely intervention of Nicolas Flamel, he realized that his friend was right about him: this was the greatest wizard of his generation. In a few decades, Clow knew as soon as he saw him, he would be the greatest wizard of all – as soon as he had no more competition, if he might say so himself.

The second time he met Albus, he realized a lot more. He had barely been out of Hogwarts for a couple of years, and still, he already had a look that Clow knew all too well. It was the look of someone so brilliant that he had no one to be his equal. It was his age that gave him trouble. In time, he'd feel comfortable enough among the great wizards of his time; Clow didn't need his foresight to tell that they'd truly get along someday. But right now, he would only see _old_ people, no matter how bright their minds.

The problem, Clow knew, was that those young people smart enough to have this kind of troubles were also smart enough to _realize_ it. And that certainly wasn't pleasant. He knew it perfectly well. So it shouldn't have been strange, perhaps, that when Albus got distracted his smile faded immediately and his eyes wandered away, without any of their usual shine.

But there was something more. He was sure of that. It was something about the way Albus never mentioned his family or friends, how he carefully avoided questions and replied with smart jokes and retorts that didn't answer anything at all. It was subtle, easy enough to miss; it was no surprise that most people didn't seem to notice it.

Clow couldn't have missed it, though. It was far too familiar. _Takes one to know one_, he mused, when he watched the young man thoroughly insult his superiors without them even noticing. There was something very intriguing about that boy.

The downside was, of course, that it was none of his business. But when had that stopped him before?

If it had been mere curiosity, he wouldn't have had such a hard time trying to resist it. No, he didn't need to hear Albus's story; his past was his own, and details were unimportant. It was his _future_ that Clow was interested in, and how to keep it from going awry. A nudge in the right direction would suffice – perhaps even a word of comfort, when they gained enough confidence with each other.

He was sure, in any case, that he had to do _something_. Hadn't he been in the same situation, a long time ago? Without good influences, particularly at such a delicate age, a mind like that could easily turn to terrible loneliness or terrible arrogance. Neither of those was a good outcome. He had been lucky to have his parents to guide him, back then. He dreaded to think of what could have become of him had he been unaided, a young man with all the power in the world and nobody _quite_ at the same level as him.

After careful consideration, he decided that "something" would be "waiting". No one liked it when meddling old fools told them what to do, he knew that better than anyone. It tended to be quite counterproductive. The best strategy, right now, was to keep a close eye on Albus – from a distance. There would come a day when the young man himself would approach him to ask for advice (true advice, not mere technicalities); anytime sooner than that, and even the wisest of words would be unwelcome.

Meanwhile, they were friendly colleagues, the newest apprentice of the world's greatest alchemist and one who had been in the same situation far too long ago. (_At least this time I know what I'm getting into_, Nicolas had told him once, and Clow had grinned as if he'd still been the overly enthusiastic Potions student who ruined the classroom every other week.) They talked mostly about their respective research, sometimes about food, and once in a while they shared anecdotes of their antics that reflected the exact kind of sense of humour that drove Nicolas up the walls.

One of the subjects related to their work that came up often in conversation was, of course, the ineptitude of the wizards and witches that formed the Magical Research and Development Circle. It was when Nicolas and Albus sent them their first paper on a newly discovered use of dragon blood that Clow saw the young man truly show his nervousness for the first time. He was used to see Nicolas pace around the laboratory and mutter to himself in French every time he was waiting for his work to be reviewed. Those were the only moments when Clow wasn't welcome at the old wizard's house, no matter how many pastries he brought with him; he'd receive him with something along the lines of "_va voir ailleurs si j'y suis!_" and tell him to go look at his _own_ work for a change. But, for Albus, this was a novelty. He was anxious enough about what they'd say of their paper, and he also had to deal with his suddenly insufferable master. So it was understandable that he went to Clow instead when he discovered they had written the wrong name in one of their citations.

"What are we going to do about it?" he asked. "_Can_ we do anything? It's Aurelia Wenlock, not Aurelius, but we've already owled the whole thing –"

"Don't worry about it," Clow interrupted him, as he handed him a (hopefully soothing) cup of tea. "Nobody is going to read the references anyway."

"... somehow that isn't very reassuring," he muttered. "How do we know they're going to read anything else, then?"

"You don't. You just hope the graphics were pretty enough."

Albus stared at him in dismay.

"Please tell me that was a joke," he said.

"Well..." Clow began to say, trying not to be too disheartening, "it's an _exaggeration_. But I'm afraid it's not exactly untrue. Still, Nicolas's name is on your paper, so in this case they have no choice but to pay attention," he added when he saw the young man's horrified face.

"I hope so," he replied with a grimace. "Nicolas told me that they don't really appreciate it when he sends them new work. I don't understand that. He's one of the greatest wizards in our era – in _many_ eras. They should be glad that he's still doing research. Why does it bother them?"

Because the Circle is formed by a bunch of stuck up know-it-alls who want to _keep_ knowing it all, Clow almost answered, but he was sure that Albus knew that already.

"The Circle seems to be allergic to change," he sighed, and he couldn't hold back a small smile. "According to them, the best way to truly help the advance of magic is to do something amazing when you are really young and then spend the next few centuries with your arms crossed and staring at the ceiling."

"But people like you two..."

"Should know better than to fool around with silly _new_ things," Clow finished the sentence, rolling his eyes. "We're old, after all. We're supposed to be against new developments by definition."

Albus sipped on his tea, thoughtful.

"Is that why neither of you are part of it?" he asked after a few moments. "I figure Nicolas wouldn't _want_ to be part of the Circle, anyway, but did they ever ask him to?"

"They asked us both, in different occasions. A mere formality, of course. Everyone knew we'd decline the offer," Clow admitted.

"But couldn't you change it from the inside? Make it better?"

Clow took a moment to reply to that. It was something in the way he'd said it... all young people wanted to change the world, of course. Especially Gryffindors. But this wasn't just the usual. It was stronger, more determined; the kind of will that might be even dangerous in the wrong circumstances. Yes, there were great things in store for Albus, if he knew how to stay on the right path.

"There was a time when I thought I could. But _they_ didn't want me, back then," he said with a slight grin. "By the time they asked me to join them, I had found out that the most I could do if I was there was drive them crazy. And I can do that just as easily from the outside."

"It's hard to imagine it," Albus said. "With the way they keep flattering you both now, it seems so strange that they didn't want you among them at some point..."

"Ah, well, but the Circle has never liked me too much. Or my magic," he pointed out.

The young man didn't reply, but Clow could read the unspoken question on his face, even if he was too polite or embarrassed to ask it. It was the question that everyone thought of and avoided to ask. Was it because they thought you a half-blood, they wondered? Because they believed Eastern magic wasn't good enough, much less a mix? Oh, but _we_ don't think you're a half-blood _now_, they said, as if his parents had somehow changed along the way. It wasn't that they saw all wizards, much less all humans, as equals these days. It was just that they had taken _him_ off their black list. And then they were surprised when they discovered it still made him uncomfortable.

Still, he reminded himself, he didn't know what Albus thought about that. It was another of those subjects he carefully avoided, and that could mean absolutely anything. It wasn't kind of him to make assumptions about it; it said more about his own bitterness than about the other man's character.

"It was a complicated situation, I have to admit that," he continued just before the silence could become awkward. "First of all, there was the tiny issue that no one had tried to mix two different systems before, and that was quite a shock for them on its own. But that wasn't the worst part of it."

"Then what was?" Albus asked, now curious.

"Very few people could use it," he said. "That hadn't been my intention at all; they didn't believe me, of course, and thought I was trying to get away with something that would give me an advantage... something that would let me take more power than what was right and safe. But that wasn't the case. I was simply trying to come up with something that worked for _me_ – I was never the best of students, Nicolas will tell you that – and it turned out that it was so intertwined with my type of magic that not many others could get it right."

And that was something else he would never understand about the magical community in the West. For all their talk about blood status, they had a really hard time understanding that there were different _types_ of magic. He would be the first to say that Western and Eastern magic were equally valid, but there was no denying that they worked in different ways, and his own system was different from both. Then again, these were the people who wouldn't get it into their brains that some wizards were better at using sun based magic than moon based magic, or that the darkness was a perfecty normal source of power and that it wasn't particularly evil... sometimes he wondered why he bothered at all.

Not that people were much more open-minded in China, of course. Now that they had finally got in contact with the Western magical community, they had a very annoying attitude (_we were already producing geniuses while you were still figuring out how to use your stupid wands!_) that drove him just as mad. But that was another story entirely.

"In any case," he said, making a conscious effort to abandon that line of thought, "it took me a long time to convince them that I wasn't going to try to take over the world."

Albus gave him a strange, wry smile, not quite looking at him in the eye.

"I suppose one can never be too careful," he muttered. "Still, how did you manage to make them see reason in the end?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything," Clow replied. "That was just the trick. After a few decades passed, they figured that I would have already done something if I really wanted to."

There was a moment of silence while they both sipped their tea. Albus looked particularly thoughtful, Clow realized; he served himself another cup as an excuse not to say anything yet. Just a little more patience, and his friend would be the one to speak. It was time for a meaningful conversation. He could feel it.

He only had to wait a few more seconds. The young man set down his cup on the table with a determined gesture, and turned to look directly at him at last.

"But how can you tell how much time is enough?" he asked. "If you think... if you have _good_ reasons to think someone is – dangerous. How can you be sure they won't do anything? Shouldn't you keep an eye on them, even after a long time?"

Clow didn't reply immediately. The right answer was "only if you feel responsible". It was also very much the _wrong_ thing to say. On the other hand, here was something solid at last, a hint of the true nature of his troubles. People didn't feel responsible about potential evil wizards, not even Gryffindors... unless they actually _were_.

He took a sip of his tea, giving himself a few more seconds to think. This wasn't right. Albus was a good boy.

Even good boys had bad ideas from time to time.

Especially with the wrong influence... and wasn't that what had been worrying him, after all? Yes, he had been onto something real, then. But it wasn't his place to give any lessons. They were already learned. That was why he couldn't See what he was working with, he mused. There was nothing to prevent; it was all in the past already.

... but then, he must have been _very_ young. Such a strong kid, ending up on the right side anyway.

"Sometimes," he said at last, choosing his words carefully, "you _can't_ be sure. But you can't spend your whole life worrying about people who may or may not do something wrong, either. It's a very delicate balance. If there is absolute certainty that they are going to hurt other people, then we should do anything in our power to prevent it, of course. But if there isn't... wouldn't it be almost as bad, to fight someone who still hasn't done anything wrong? Even for Seers, sometimes it's better to wait. It isn't always clear. And people can have a change of heart."

"Yes," Albus said softly, averting his eyes, "they can."

Clow couldn't help but smile to himself. His suspicions were right; Albus wasn't in any danger, not anymore. It would be hard for him, of course, as it happened to all great people. But he would turn out all right in the end. Even though he couldn't see the details yet, he could tell that much.

"You are going to be a great wizard one day," he told him, almost without realizing he was speaking aloud. "Life will put enough responsibilities on your shoulders, when the time comes. And _then_ you will have to do your very best. But, for now... enjoy being young, Albus, because it doesn't last for long. Be happy that your greatest worry right now is what the Circle will say about your work."

The young man stared at him for a moment, startled, and then he chuckled.

"I think I'm more worried about what _Nicolas_ will say when he hears what the Circle thinks about our work," he admitted. Even as he turned to more serious subject again, he was still smiling, obviously relieved. "But I think... I think he would agree with you about this."

"I think he would, yes," said Clow. "He taught me much more than Potions, when I was at Hogwarts. But of course he doesn't want to be blamed for how _I_ turned out," he added with a mischievous grin.

Albus raised his eyebrows, questioning.

"Oh, he thought my friends were a bit too crazy," he explained. "Even though they agreed with him about many things. No one ever hated the Circle more than Uric, after all."

"... _the_ Uric? The one with the –"

"Jellyfish hat, yes. That's the one. Now, I'll be the first to admit that his ideas were... outlandish, to say the least. But they always were terribly rude to him. He didn't deserve that."

"It seems the Circle's manners aren't a new development, then," Albus sighed.

"It's quite a disgrace, really. Their own closed minds make them act that way, that is the worst part of it. That's particularly out of place for people who are supposed to work towards the development of magic, not hinder it. They should listen to everyone, no matter how mad they sound, and only thenreach their own conclusions," said Clow. "The surest sign of a truly great mind is that it always has room for more."

The young man thought about it for a while. He seemed quite pleased with himself again, but there was still a lingering nervousness in his gestures. That wouldn't entirely go away until he knew exactly what had happened with his paper, Clow was sure of that.

"So," Albus said at last, "what you are saying is that they are so closed-minded, that they might reject our work even if it's actually good?"

"That's a way to put it," Clow chuckled. "But I meant that your work might still be good even if they reject it."

"That doesn't change the outcome, though," he muttered.

"It changes what it means for _you_," said Clow, with a slight smile. Albus tilted his head.

"Well, yes, I suppose it does. Still," he continued, with an innocent look that was far too perfect to fool someone who could pretend just as well, "I wouldn't be so nervous if I knew for sure what they'll think about it."

Clow peered at him over the frame of his glasses, amused.

"That was a very Slytherin thing to say."

But Albus was still grinning shamelessly at him. He chuckled, shook his head, and cleared the table so he would have enough space to do a proper reading.

"Just don't tell Nicolas I let you know about this before him," he joked as he took the Cards.

"You have my word," the young man said with mock solemnity.

So Clow spread the Cards on the table, ready to work, and at the same time knowing perfectly well that whatever this reading told him wouldn't matter in the least in the long run. Regardless of what the Circle thought about his work now, the future was certain. Albus Dumbledore would be a great wizard, and a great man. That much was a fact.


End file.
